aestec

[osp-originals]

Overdramatic

TW: emeto (3 times, including it getting on people), fainting, hospital mentioned (but no hospital visit or EMS called)

———

“Ugh, I feel like vomiting,” Flynn groaned.

“Could you shut the fuck up sometimes? You’re always complaining about how shitty you feel. We get it,” Victor snapped.

“Victor!” Iris said. “What has gotten into you today?”

“Nothing! Flynn’s bitching is getting annoying. Someone had to say it.”

“I-“ Flynn huffed.

He couldn’t say Victor was wrong. It’s just, this time, Flynn actually felt ill. And he hadn’t even eaten any fast food that day, so that couldn’t be the reason. Plus, it wasn’t just his stomach that was upset. He had chills, but was somehow sweating at the same time, and his legs felt like they could just give out at any moment. He had looked in a mirror earlier, and his ears and cheeks were red as a tomato. He didn’t get how the others didn’t notice that.

“Okay, well,” Flynn tried to think of something witty to say back, but all he could focus on was how awful he felt. “I’m going to go throw up, and hopefully not pass out.”

He just barely saw Victor roll his eyes as he started heading to the backstage bathroom. He couldn’t worry about that, though, because it was taking all of his concentration just to walk in a straight line and not spew his lunch all over the floor. He finally reached the men’s restroom. The door seemed to weigh three times as much as it usually did, but he managed to open it and make his way into the first stall. He didn’t bother locking the stall door behind him because in reality, he wanted someone to come in and find him. He sat on his knees in front of the toilet, preparing for what he knew was going to happen.

Unfortunately, no one showed up right away. He was disappointed, but not surprised. The nausea felt like it was eating him from the inside out, but nothing was happening. He wished someone would at least come and comfort him through this.

He faked retching and clenched his abs to try to get something started. It worked, but all that started was a series of involuntary but dry gags.

After a good 30 seconds of that, burps started coming along with the retches, making them even louder than they already were. The automatic contractions of his stomach became more and more forceful, until finally, a violent heave sent a hearty stream of chunky, vile liquid spewing out. He choked and coughed, with no time to catch his breath before his stomach expelled more of his last meal. He gasped for air, letting saliva drip from his mouth. The room started to spin slowly.

His stomach convulsed violently again, making his whole body shake as it brought up more half-digested food. Every heave was more painful than the last. He spit into the toilet to try to get rid of the repulsive taste in his mouth.

Another wave of sick shot up his throat and splashed into the toilet. He couldn’t stop. He couldn’t control anything.

When will it end?

A burp forced its way up his throat, bringing with it another thick stream of bitter vomit.

Finally, he caught a break. He gasped and spit again, desperately hoping it was over. His stomach hurt much more than it did before, but it didn’t feel like it wanted to explode anymore, and to him, that was an improvement. He flushed the toilet.

He sat against the stall wall for a few minutes, moving as little as possible. His head spun. The episode had drained him not just of stomach contents, but energy.

Every once in a while, he wondered how long it had been, but he didn’t really care. It’s not like he would be going on stage in this state. Eventually, nausea began to rise in his stomach again.

Oh, no, please, no…

It ramped up extremely quickly this time. He threw himself into position over the toilet just in time to heave violently into it. He gripped the toilet seat, barely able to hold himself up. The retches repeated over and over. He didn’t know how anything was still coming up. More and more stomach acid and bile spewed from his lips. He lost track of how many times it had happened. He just wanted it to end. But he kept barfing, and barfing, and barfing…

Finally, it ended. The world was spinning faster than ever. He could barely see his own hands. His legs felt numb.

He knew the feeling, and he knew it was too late to stop it. He used the last of his energy to lower himself gently down to the bathroom floor.

***

Iris checked her watch.

“T-minus 3 minutes.”

“Thanks,” Ash said to her.

“And could you go check on Flynn, please? It’s been, like, ten minutes since he went to the bathroom,” Iris told Ash.

“Of course,” Ash said, then immediately headed for the men’s restroom.

“Hey, Flynn,” Ash called through the door. “You alright?”

There was no response.

“We’re going on soon,” he yelled.

Still, not a sound.

Ash opened the door. All of the stall doors were open, and he saw what looked like someone lying on the floor under the wall of the first stall.

“Flynn?” he called, rushing over to the stall.

When he reached it, he was horrified to find Flynn lying on the tile in a fetal position, his face as pale as an overcast sky and his eyes staring off into the middle distance. It looked like a dead body.

Ash stood paralyzed in shock. It took him a few seconds to even notice that there was vomit in the toilet. He mentally put the pieces together.

“Flynn!?” he said, desperately hoping for a response, but none came. “Flynn!? What am I supposed to do!? Oh my god.”

He knelt down and shook Flynn by the shoulder, all the while calling his name. The rosy tint started to return to Flynn’s cheeks. His eyes fluttered as if looking around for something.

“Hey, Flynn? Can you hear me? What happened? Are you okay? What’s going on? Do I need to call 911?”

***

Flynn awakened to being violently shaken and yelled at by someone. He couldn’t understand what was being said, but he could tell they were worried. He looked up at the person’s face and quickly recognized the all-too-familiar situation. He had fainted, and someone who had never seen him faint before was freaking out about it.

“I’m okay,” he slurred, fighting through the fatigue and haze to try to calm them down.

“What do you mean you’re okay? You just looked like you were dead!” Ash said.

“I just passed out,” he said calmly. “It happens sometimes.”

Ash stuttered, too bewildered by Flynn’s nonchalantness to form a response.

“Just get me some water.”

Ash nodded, then jumped up and dashed out of the room.

Seconds later, Ash returned with Iris and a plastic water bottle.

“Hey, Flynn, are you okay?” Iris’s smooth voice asked.

“Depends on how you define ‘okay,’” he replied with a slight joking smile.

Ash handed him the water bottle. He started to push himself up, and Iris helped, bringing him to a sitting position. His arm felt barely strong enough to lift the bottle to his lips, but he managed to do it.

“You’re sure you don’t need to go to the hospital?” Iris questioned.

“For now,” Flynn answered. “Keep an eye on me, though.”

“I will,” Iris promised.

Ash looked at his watch.

“We have one minute until we’re supposed to go on,” Ash pointed out.

“Go ahead without me.”

“Alright then,” Ash said warily.

Ash left and Iris stayed.

Flynn slowly drank more of the water. Nausea started creeping up on him again, but he kept drinking. He wanted to at least have something to let out when it eventually happened.

Suddenly, a powerful convulsion launched his stomach contents up his throat, splattering watery vomit all over himself, Iris, and the bathroom stall.

He only had a second to sit in shock and embarrassment before the strong urge to puke again had him scrambling to get his head over the toilet.

He spewed, adding new, clear liquid to the already vomit-filled bowl. He heaved many times, but he wasn’t bothered by the physical sensations this time. All he could feel was the embarrassment of covering Iris with his vomit.

He felt her hand touch his back.

Is she really still trying to comfort me? After what just happened?

The flow of vomit finally ended. He knelt there for an awkward moment, not sure what to do.

“…I am so sorry,” he finally said.

“No, I understand. You couldn’t help it.”

“It’s so gross though,” he cringed, looking down at his soiled costume.

“Yeah, well… it could’ve been worse.”

“How?”

“We’ll, it was mostly just water, so at least it won’t stain. Y’know, at least it wasn’t chunky, or-“

“Okay, ew. I regret asking,” he said with a laugh.

Iris stayed with him in the bathroom until he felt well enough to leave it. He was able to keep water down and didn’t faint again that night.

[journal-number-3]

"If you had to leave your child with any of your characters which would you choose?"

Andy chose Felix saying it wasn't even close- he says Shepard would protect Maggie but wouldn't be a good caregiver. But Felix has the experience of looking after his brother.

Mace said Taishen and it wasn't even close with similar reasoning to Andy- he had the experience of raising Mei Li. "Everyone else I play is extremely untrustworthy"

Nikkie said Iris and didn't elaborate

Mikey said Gricko cause he's a dad

Derek said obviously Lethica, cause she's the most motherly and caring but would also get his cats to worship Shar

[echo-goes-mmm]

Moonflower #9

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: mild disordered eating

Only a few hours into the night, Kit woke up hungry. 

He had noticed that humans ate less than fae, but he’d gotten used to nothing at all. He thought he could manage on a light diet, but Kit had not seen luck for over a year.

He got out of bed, picking up his discarded clothes. 

Mistress had said he could eat when he needed to, and Kit’s stomach felt empty and demanding. 

He didn’t want to wake anyone. Kit was lower than a servant; he had no right to ask anything of the staff. And they might talk.

Kit stepped out into the hall.

Sir Maxus and a lady knight stood outside Iris’s door, dressed in leather armor.

“Where’re you going?” asked Maxus.

Kit hesitated. “The kitchen,” he admitted.

“I’ll walk you over.”

The silence was uneasy and awkward. 

Kit at least knew that Brennan: 

1. Didn’t trust or like him

And

2. Was very loyal to Iris

He didn’t know anything about Maxus, who was only behind Brennan in how often he was assigned to the queen.

“So…” said Maxus, “do fae have knights too?”

“I suppose. It’s not exactly the same duties, but the Prince has knights.”

“Prince? No king or queen?”

Kit shrugged. “Not for a long time.”

“Oh.” 

The torches on the wall sconces danced, casting warm light out into the hall. The castle was quiet and still, and Kit looked out the windows to see the stars.

The kitchen was just as silent, and Maxus leaned against a counter, watching.

Kit rifled through the storage. He found a cut of meat, wrapped up and fresh, and it made his mouth water. It was just one of many similar cuts, and they wouldn’t miss it, right?

There were berries in a jar, and the best find was a covered pitcher of heavy cream chilled in the dairy.

Kit poured some cream into a ceramic cup before putting the pitcher back. 

He didn’t bother with cooking, or finding cutlery, instead tearing off strips of meat and eating it raw.

He savored each bite. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine that he was eating after a hunt, in peace. At home.

But Maxus’s presence ruined the illusion. 

Kit shook out the berries into the palm of his hand, and he ate the whole pint.

He slowly sipped at the cream, until it was gone.

Kit wiped the juices of the meat off the marble counter, and washed the cup and jar as best as he could.

Maxus walked him back to the royal wing without comment.

___________________

Iris didn’t say anything in the morning. He half expected Sir Brennan to confront him, but it seemed Maxus didn’t report his midnight meal.

Kit decided not to mention it to his Mistress. She had given him permission to eat, after all. Plus, Iris was so busy with other things and thoughts; she didn’t need more to worry about. 

Especially something unusual that could cause gossip.

___________________

The next night, he woke up hungry again.

Maybe it was a good sign that his appetite was returning in full swing. He didn’t even get dizzy in the kitchen the night before.

Maxus and the lady knight were stationed in the hall again.

Sir Maxus walked Kit to the kitchen.

“Aren’t you eating enough during the day?” he asked as Kit tucked into a loaf of bread, cheese, and more delicious cream.

Kit put down the cup. 

“I- I mean, I’m not judging or anything, I’m just wondering. You look really hungry.”

Kit looked away, fidgeting.

“Is the appetite a fae thing?” Maxus asked gently. “You guys eat more than we do?”

Kit nodded, his ears turning pink. He didn’t want to say it out loud. He was a foreigner, and even though mortals were just as strange to him as he was to them, it was unwise to draw attention.

He was at their mercy, after all. He was a slave.

“Maybe you should talk to Christine? To get bigger portions or something?”

Kit shook his head. He knew Iris’s aunt already judged him for declining wine, and someone had put salt in his food. Either on purpose, or an accident, it didn’t matter. Mortals just did food differently, and he was the outlier. 

He imagined the looks he’d get if his plate had twice the amount of the people sitting next to him.

“It would embarrass my Mistress,” he whispered, unwilling to break the serene quiet of the kitchen.

“If you say so,” said Maxus, unconvinced. “Still, just… write Chef a note or something, so she doesn’t wonder about the missing stuff.”

Kit nodded. “Yes, sir.” He could do that.

They walked back after Kit cleaned up, in silence.

___________________

“You’re looking better,” commented Iris the next morning.

“Hm?”

She gestured to his face as she ate her toast.

“You have some color in your cheeks. That’s good, right?”

“Oh. Yes.”

He did feel better. It was small, almost unnoticeable, but he didn’t feel so bad when he got up in the morning. Magic was still out of reach, but it would surely come soon.

Kit picked at the crumbs on his plate. He eyed the small pitcher of cream that came with the coffee pot on the breakfast cart.

Mistress left to do her makeup, and Kit waited until she was out of the room to drink it down.

He snuck a spoonful of sugar, the only thing better than cream, and a thought hit him.

He was keeping secrets, wasn’t he?

Even if it was just the hunger in his belly, it was something he was keeping from Iris.

The deal demanded loyalty. Painfully vague.

What was loyalty to the deal? Could he even stay quiet about this? Would the deal’s magic force him to reveal it?

He wished he was in the position to negotiate when he accepted the terms.

“Ready to go?” asked Mistress.

Kit nodded. 

There wasn’t a painful jolt of magic, or a strong compulsion to blurt out his secret, but a warning pricked at the back of his mind.

The deal’s magic had decided it wasn’t betrayal. Probably because he had permission to eat, and Iris hadn’t told him to tell her when he ate.

Still. He was on thin ice.

Kit bit his lip as they passed the royal portraits on the wall.

Maybe he’d tell her. Eventually.

taglist: @paintedpigeon1 @cupcakes-and-pain @loserwithsyle @cepheusgalaxy @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @virtualbreadtale

[pxppet]

"Tell me, and do be honest. For what purpose did you steal me?" Elliot points the fingers of his touching hands at the scientist like a stereotypical Sherlock, a contemplative grin on his face.

They look up from the papers they had been shredding across the room, turning in their rolling chair to face the ALTR. "I told you, and while I don't mind telling you again, I wish it'd sink in: I saved you from that awful place. You lived a long, dreadful life and- and you're only 19, yet. It's not- I needed to-" They sigh, massaging their temple to knot out the stress.

Elliot picks at the sleeves of his sweater, distant. His entire right hand is bandaged in gauze from an 'incident' during his transport. But Elliot is used to incidents, particularly ones where he is the culprit. "Where did the clothes you dress me in come from," he tests, immediately getting his answer as the scientist stiffens and turns their chair away slightly, half going back to destroying documents, half considering if Elliot even needs verbal confirmation.

"From the store, Elliot. Remember the store, the big store I went into and you had to hide in the car?"

"Store," Elliot tries out the word on his tongue, giving a hum of approval. "So, doctor, was it a spouse or a chil-"

The scientist slaps their own leg in shock and turns around to look at him with eyes that shut him up immediately. When they see him shrink under the blankets with his wide, orange eyes, they immediately untense and correct themselves. "Im sorry, it's okay. It's- it's not polite to ask certain questions. I know the testers don't... hold back on you ALTRs, but out here, people don't ask such personal things."

"Have you ever experienced a terrible occurrence that impacted you significantly," Elliot mumbles under a breath, almost too faint to be heard. The colour is gone from his face, and he suddenly lies back down, quieted by being startled.

The scientist licks their lips, brow creasing with pity. "I have supplies for burritos tonight. It's something you've never tried before. It has meat. You'll like it." They turn back around and gnaw at their lip with guilt as they resume their tasks of covering up Elliot's vanishing.

"Doctor," he calls softly over the whirring of the shredder. "Thank you for letting me wear your child's sweater." He yawns, seemingly exhausted into frail sleep yet again. "I think it is the only clothing I've ever enjoyed. I will get no blood on it."

The blunt confession is the first outright thanks they've received so far, and their hands clench shakily around the papers. They blink away tears. What do you even respond to that with? What could possibly addendum such a genuine thanks?

They turn back to face him, mouth already forming words, but when they see him, he has gone back to sleep. They sigh. They will shred papers. Then they will make burritos. Then they will care for this strange and wild little ALTR as much as they can. No matter what.

[night-error]

The Darkness of the Purest

Silly little iris angst doodle. I have nothing else to say but that.

[astraldoesart]

Caretaker Mael revamped!! Next Fen needs a revamp (maybe a new name too??)

[northernolddragon]

A ghostly apparition of Iris with her demonic "pets" and personal guard.

[ishgard]

.

[cheesywitcher]

She is sadness.

This makes me so sad... I feel like i'm in the depths of depression every time i play this.

[ask-caretaker-mael]

-> Opening Terminal...

-> Loading...

-> Opening Samael Corvi's File...

[Samael Corvi. 35 years old. Nonbinary. Department Head of the ALTR Care Department. Otherwise known as the Caretaker. Unknown marital status, father to Fen Corvi. 4'10''. 120lb. Unknown origin.]

-> Investigate?

-> Loading...

[Notes: Samael Corvi is unique. It showed up at IRIS when it was 15 and has shown loyalty to IRIS since then. It never seems to stray far from any one ALTR and has access to many areas through unknown means. It shouldn't have this access, we need to discover how its getting to these areas and quickly limit its reach. It spent years as the Facility's custodial staff but quickly became a Caretaker after the ALTR 114209 incident. Do not alert it to our investigation, do not approach it without clearance. You do not have clearance. Research it through other means. -Management.]

-> Exit?

-> Closing Terminal...

××××

Hello! You can call me Samael, Sammy, Sam. Anything! I'm the mun. I'm 21 and go by she/he/it. This is a rp/ask blog and nothing that happens here is real. I have a few rules, naturally!

× No nsfw! Or sexualization of me or Caretaker Mael. Please respect this.

× Shippy asks are okay! Just be aware that Caretaker Mael is Really Weird.

× No bigotry of any variety! Or hate/bullying. We're all just here for a fun time.

× This blog will contain violence, gore, abuse and other dark subjects like that. I will tag them appropriately but be aware of that.

[vaugarde]

oh my god did i ever mention one of my funny hcs from middle school that ghetsis and the siblings’ mom were actually star crossed lovers that bonded over ppl making fun of their hair being green and pink and ghetsis started team plasma bc he was grieving her and that grief turned him evil and irredeemable

[periwinkla]

PokeAttorney AU Masterpost!

I'll update this as I go ♡ ---- posts ---- #pokeattorney AU main tag Choco-Phoenix-Travesty post Unnecessary feelings + WHOOOP post Pokeattorney x 15th Anniversary skit post ---- Teams (for now) ---- (in brackets the mons I haven't drawn yet) Phoenix - shiny Decidueye, shiny Umbreon, Goodra Trucy - Hoopa, Eevee, Hydrapple... (all her mons here) Miles - Gardevoir, Kingambit, Espeon, Dachsbun Maya - Mismagius, Snorlax Mia - Noctowl, (Alakazam) Godot - Luxray Franziska - shiny Gallade, (Dragonair) Gumshoe - Yamper Larry - Smeargle, (Infernape) Pearl - Clefairy Blackquill - Hisuian Braviary Klavier - Toxtricity Apollo - Skeledirge, (Exploud) Athena - Rotom, (Pawmot), (shiny Lucario) Ema - Reuniclus Nahyuta - Alolan Ninetales Kay - shiny Greninja, (Honchkrow - inherited from her father) Eustace - Politoed Iris - white Floette/Florges Dahlia - (Roselia) Kristoph - (shiny Roserade) *the WAA’s main partner pokémon are all Ghost types: Decidueye - Hoopa - Skeledirge - Rotom *Mia's Noctowl is mentor to Phoenix's Decidueye *after her death Mia's pokémon become the WAA's resident caretakers and eventually Trucy's helpers for her shows *More info about the teams: Phoenix + Miles Maya & Miles Wrightworth family x Eevee-Umbreon-Espeon (1) Wrightworth family x Eevee-Umbreon-Espeon (2) Franziska, Pearl, Blackquill, Klavier, Apollo, Athena, Ema, Nahyuta, Kay, Eustace

[echo-goes-mmm]

Moonflower #12

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: none

It wasn’t like a revel. Kit knew it wouldn’t be, especially after Iris’s brief etiquette lesson, but he didn’t really have anything else to compare it to.

He should really stop comparing human customs to his own.

The music was slow and soft, stringed instruments in the background as people milled about.

Servants in smart black suits carried trays of tall narrow glasses, all full of fizzy wine. 

Iris delicately plucked a glass off a tray, but she didn’t take a sip. 

“The trick is not to drink,” she whispered with a smile, “but to look like you are.”

She handed him the glass and took another.

“Good evening, your majesty,” greeted a woman in a blue-green dress. Her makeup was garish, in Kit’s opinion.

“Hello, Lady Selina. How is your cousin, Mark? Recovering well?”

Lady Selina tossed her blonde hair a bit, and the twitch of Iris’s mouth told him this was both an annoyance and an amusement.

“Our cousin is doing just fine.”

“Wonderful. Have you met Kit yet?” Iris gestured to him, and Selina’s haughty gaze looked him up and down.

“I haven’t. I’ve just heard rumors. Does it speak?”

“Yes, ma’am, I do,” said Kit, and Iris covered her laugh with a delicate cough.

“How novel,” said Selina to Iris, completely dismissing him. “Speaking of novel, your dress is… interesting. It took me a moment to realize it was meant to be the colors of a sunset. Did your seamstress’s apprentice make it?”

Kit internally bristled. He liked Mira; who was straightforward but not rude with how she ordered him to move and stand. She was kind under her gruffness, and her work was excellent. 

Selina was just being difficult.

“Mm, isn’t it lovely? Mira’s work is truly beautiful,” airily replied Iris, deliberately maneuvering around the insults. 

“Your dress is so pretty too, ma’am,” said Kit, his voice innocent and his eyes big and dumb. He cocked his head, looking Selina’s outfit up and down. “I didn’t know humans could make faux silk. It surely looks almost like the real thing!”

Selina blinked, bewildered and offended, and Iris smiled with condescension. 

Kit was very pleased with himself. He did not say anything untrue (he was unaware if fake silk did exist, but surely it would look real if it did). His words were carefully chosen to clearly appear as an unintentional insult, and Selina fell for it.

“Isn’t he adorable?” Iris playfully ruffled his hair, like he was a particularly cute animal that didn’t know what it was saying. “So sweet.”

“Uh- yes-,” stammered Selina. “So cute. If you’ll excuse me, your grace.”

Selina fled, in as much as slowly walking away could be fleeing, to a group of other nobles. She was flushed, and Kit could hear her whispering to her new companions about the conversation.

“How upset is she?” murmured Iris to him as she waved to a Lord. 

“Very,” he whispered back.

Iris smiled, and Kit decided to boldly make fun of Selina. 

“Does this look like fake silk to you?” he whined, in a copy of her voice.

Iris glanced over her shoulder, and sure enough, Selina was clutching the fabric of her dress, desperately showing it to another Lady. Her lips moved just out of sync with Kit’s mimicry.

Iris couldn’t help but laugh. “You sound just like her,” she giggled.

Kit smiled. “I can do more, if you like.” As a fae, mimicry came easy to him, and if it made Iris laugh he was happy to fool around with it.

“Not here,” she said, still grinning. “But maybe later.”

___________________

Kit was getting used to the rhythm of the party when Mistress sent him over to the dessert table to get her some of the miniature tarts.

Unfortunately for him, a gaggle of young women were interested in chatting.

“Hello,” said one, who looked like she was putting on a brave face. “Are you really a faerie?”

It was an unnecessary question. Anyone who looked at him could see he was not human.

“Yes,” he said, a bit confused.

The girls giggled with each other.

“Can you do magic?” another piped up.

“Uh, yes.” Kit knew what question was coming next, and his mind whirled to list what he could do in his condition that would please them.

The last legs of sunlight still streamed through the nearby windows, amber and glowing.

“Would you like to see?” he offered.

The girls nodded eagerly, and Kit put down the plate he was carrying.

“Just a moment,” he said, watching the beams of light fall. 

He shot out a hand to catch a sunbeam, and the girls gasped as the light filled his cupped hands.

Catching a sunbeam was child’s play, but it looked impressive enough to the young women.

They ooh-ed and ahh-ed at the light winding around his hand as he turned the beam over and over in his palm.

“Can I touch it?” asked the brave one, her face in awe.

“It will shatter,” he explained. “They’re delicate. But you can feel how warm it is if you hold your hand above it.”

He held it out to the group, and they took turns feeling the heat and cooing.

“Are you girls having fun?” asked Iris from behind, and the young women turned and curtsied.

“Oh yes,” said one of them, “Kit was showing us magic.”

“Was he?” Iris’s gaze turned on him.

“Um, yes.” Kit let the sunbeam drop and it made a tiny sound like broken glass on the floor as it dispersed.

The girls giggled again, and Kit felt more like the butt of a joke he didn’t understand. An innocent one, probably, but still.

The women walked off together, whispering to each other and laughing, and Iris fondly watched them go.

“I think they were trying to flirt with you,” she said.

“You think so?” He didn’t get that impression, but Kit wasn’t exactly around younger humans often.

Iris shrugged. 

Kit handed her the plate of treats he’d picked out for her. “I thought they might be making fun, at the end,” he muttered.

“I doubt it, but maybe.” She took a small bite of a strawberry tart. “I didn’t have many friends when I was a teenager, so I can’t say for sure.” Iris hummed, enjoying the tart. “I'm pretty sure they think you’re cute, though.”

Kit felt weird about a bunch of adolescents finding him attractive. “I’m an adult,” he said. “Isn’t that obvious?”

“Of course it is. It’s just a teenager thing, I suppose. Having crushes on grownups. I wouldn’t think anything of it.”

“As you say, Mistress,” he agreed. He picked up a chocolate tart from the table, tasting it. A faint burn of salt lingered on his tongue, but it felt more like a hint of spice than pain. It paired well with the sweetness and faint bitterness of the dessert.

“At least your magic is coming back, Right?”

Kit hesitated. “Catching sunbeams is barely magic,” he mumbled.

“Oh.”

He didn’t feel tired, which was a good sign. 

Maybe… maybe after the party he could practice. Try and push his limit.

Kit ate the rest of the tart, joining Iris back into the crowd.

His magic could surely only get better from here. At least, until winter came again.

taglist: @paintedpigeon1 @cupcakes-and-pain @loserwithsyle @cepheusgalaxy @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @virtualbreadtale

[pxppet]

Year of Whump January 15 Prompt!

experimental injection / threatening loved ones / warehouse / warm bubble bath / “I promise this won’t hurt”

Posting early because I was very inspired! An AU that includes IRIS for once. This is a glimpse into some ideas I've had for a while now, enjoy!

CW: kidnapping, inhumane science experiments, dehumanization, captivity, muzzles, restraint, autistic character being overstimulated, manipulative caretaker, nightmares, human weapon trope & mention

▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸▸

The doctors- if you can even call them that - surround Jackie, they stink of gauze and chemicals and death, death, death. The whole of the IRIS building stinks of it. Jackie could smell it even before they'd begun to inject him with this pale, glowing green liquid.

"Hold him still," someone commands. Useless, Jackie has been stronger, and stronger still, with each passing day. "You are safe, Mr. Reid." He lets out a scream, like a big cat's roar, as the needle presses into his stretch-marked false muscles. He's sobbing, biting, thrashing. The metal restraints are bending and bowing with his strength.

The doctors just watch, stare, eyes behind goggles observing him like a prized cut of steak; like a natural disaster. Jackie gnashes at a hand coming near him, but the IRIS doctors have had him muzzled since he bit one scientists hand off entirely. Jackie doesn't know why he chewed, why he swallowed, and why it felt fantastic.

He bangs his head back against the metal table over, and over, as green liquid shines through his skin in every vein inside his contorted body. He screams out at them, at god, at anyone. He's begging for his mother, he's threatening them with death. Nothing he says will matter, he is an animal to them. He grinds his teeth so hard on the bit of the muzzle it snaps in half. He swallows the plastic without hesitation, choking it down just to be rid of it.

His metal table is wheeled through monochrome hallways as his cries turn to begging and whimpering, the medicine slowing and settling.

---

"The date is September 12th, 2017. State your name for the record."

"J-jackson Reid," he trembles out into the muzzle.

"Mr. Reid, may you state the reason for being at this facility."

"Test- testing. I v-volunteered." His muscles strain, too big and powerful for him, he used to be so lean and fit, now he looks like a freak. He knows he must.

"What drug are you here to test, Mr. Reid." The scientist's eyebrow raises observing, watching, like any other eye or camera shoved at him.

"I don't know."

"Subject has forgotten name of experiment, refer to psychiatrist for evaluation-"

"I don't want another fucking shrink!" Jackie feels the rage but distant, not him, him but not him.

"Calm down Mr. Reid. You are safe in the care of our psychiatrists I assure you."

"Can we just do this another time?" Something is surging in him, but it always is these days. "Please just let me sleep."

The scientist stares hard at him. "For now, fine. But you must complete the questionnaire at least once weekly, as you know. It will not hurt you."

"I know," he says, small.

She leaves, and he tries to find any comfort in the metal prison of a bed.

--

Jackie is awoken suddenly. A light is shining in his room. Great, what's this fucking place doing now, is his groaned thought.

Until a figure steps out of the light. They look around, and glowing eyes land on him. Jackie tenses, the metal groaning. Adrenaline pumps into him, and its painful. He cries out. A hand falls over his mouth. He gasps into it, staring up.

"Looks painful. Get some rest, love." The strangers voice is echoing, resonating, surrounding him. Yes… Yes he would like some sleep. Rest would be good. Yeah.

He sleeps.

--

Jackie slips into the waking world in a slow, climbing jump into awareness. He feels warm, tired, slippery. He raises his hands, and through a fog he sees… bubbles.

He jolts up, gasping. His hand lightly cracks the blue-green bathtub below him. He winces and pulls it away, gritting his teeth in preemptive apology. But no one is around. Jackie can hear them though. In the house next door, in the street outside, and… in the next room over. He sits up, water sloshing around him.

"Hello?" he calls. The sound of someone saying "shit", followed by rustling, and someone moving to just outside the door. It opens upon someone in a black robe with a black mask over the top half of their face.

"Hi," they speak. Their voice is rough, worn out, and distinctly a northern English accent. They smell like they've just rolled in freshly mowed grass then dumped river water on themself. "Before anything- You're safe. Don't use your muscles too much, they're all torn, literally all. You've been strained for so long I can't even guess."

"Who… Am I still in IRIS? Are- Will you-" Jackie backs against the wall behind the bath slowly, trying to seem compliant and small. The indented scar along his cheeks and nose grimly keep his mind on pain, pain, pain. "Don't hurt me."

The masked person sighs. "Like I said, you're safe. Jackson Reid?"

"Jackie," he corrects too quickly. "P-please just- just Jackie."

The person smiles, warm and friendly. "Jackie. I can't tell you my name yet. But you can call me The Cat, if you want."

"The… That is so fucking formal. Where am I?"

"I can't tell you, but you're-"

""Stop! Don't- don't say that a-anymore, please don't." Jackie holds his own head, trembling.

"Okay," the person agrees quickly. They move to sit beside the tub. Jackie blinks at them, arms curled near his chest like a tyrannosaurus. "I can tell you a thing or two, but just that. You're in my boss' apartment. I'm taking care of you. The bubble bath is a spell of mine, it helps the healing of tissue."

"Magic. M-may as fucking well exist after the shit I've s-seen."

"Have you always had a stutter?"

"What does- does it matter?"

"We're worried the experimental shit they tricked you into damaged your brain. One of us- there's an 'us' by the way- can work with heads and hearts. She took a look and there's… weird shit, let's just say."

This makes Jackie snort, despite it all. "Weird shit? That's the b-best you got huh?"

The stranger sends him a wry smile. "When it comes to the fuckers at IRIs, it could be anything. I'm… sorry. You were just a citizen. You didn't deserve this. Not that those- those asswipes fucking care."

Jackie hums, and lays back into the water. He hasn't stopped shaking since he's woken up. The masked person tsks and reaches out, holding Jackie's arm. Jackie jolts, but he was trained to not pull away. He sits still for the examination, letting himself be bathed. He doesn't even want to know the punishments a magical person would give. IRIS's were enough.

---

Hours later, Jackie has been laid to sleep in the guest room of the house. The mask finally comes off. Long hair tumbles down as the hood is removed.

Marvin scratches long nails through their hair, shaking it out and sighing. Unnatural, inhuman blue eyes scan the coffee table. They pick up their burner phone and pull up the photo gallery. Plopping onto their boss' sofa, they scroll through photos of several dark haired chilren and teens with their mum. A cruel joke compared to the muzzle-scarred man with over-stretched, bulking muscle on a too small frame. They've been stalking Jackson for their boss for months. He's an asset, one who will become a great soldier for them. IRIS will be expecting him, sure, but expectations mean nothing in the face of the beast they've created.

Marvin's eyes downcast, then close. The death threats they were ordered to send Jackson Reid's family still disturb them. But they had to make sure; Jackson has to have connections to no one but their team from here on. They puff out a stressed breath, and pull the blanket and pillows from the back of the sofa to form a bed. Their boss will be home to de-brief Jacks- Jackie tomorrow, then they can begin training him properly. For now the healing bath and a good rest should help him begin to see the coven as safe.

Marvin curls up, and sleeps.

Jackie tosses an turns in his sleep, nightmaring of a metal muzzle digging through his flesh until his teeth fall out. He will wake to a new life - well, a new, new life - tomorrow. A mattress and blankets will soothe out the knots made by the metal and medication. He is no longer a prisoner. Things can only go up from here, Jackie is sure.

[mizusnose]

With her sweetened breath and her tongue so mean

established mizu x fem!reader valentine’s day NSFW :)

———

It was constant, the way that Mizu kept looking at you throughout the night. A pull of gravity that mimicked the tide at night, the waves insistent, gentle once the dawn had broken and morning fell over the earth. The glimmer of Mizu’s chain caught the hotel lights. Only one was on, a lamp in the corner of the room atop a desk.

The singular light cast shadows over Mizu’s gaze. It had changed throughout the elevator ride up. Had shifted from intrigue, to a glare, to a hard line of blue against her dark pupils: exploded and nearly blocking the color of her iris.

Now, she looked at you as if she was hungry. Ready to unhinge her jaw and eat you whole. A look meant only for you and her: the darkness swimming between them the only witness, one that would be gone by morning.

And yet, you smiled. Grinned, even. A little giddy about it all: having Mizu this way, unearthed, ungrounded, a bit feral. Somewhere along the way back to the hotel, Mizu had gripped your jaw, kissed you mean and then soft, then mean again before pulling away and leaving you breathless. Now the only sign it had happened was the wipe of lipstick against the edges of her mouth. A dark stain that bloomed like a bruise, one she had taken herself, one she had given heartily.

“Get naked.” Mizu’s voice was soft, yet the deep timbre of it shook something in you. Unlodged the deep of your gut, sent it rumbling down into your belly, deeper, deeper still.

“Kiss me first.” You demand. You’re willing to be mean too, tonight. A touch of arrogance, of unwillingness, and Mizu would cave. Would become an unrockable force above you. Have you an unraveled mess and continue on and on and on.

Mizu, a bit surprised, complies regardless. She cradles your chin, the sharp of jaw that she had gripped earlier in the heat of a kiss. It aches still, and she kisses it tender and bites on your earlobe before kissing down to your mouth, the heat of it.

Mizu has always been an eager kisser. Always wanted more when she wasn’t given enough. She’d always joked that it was because she was greedy for all of you. Wanted every bit, every part, every crook and angle and depth. So, she took your mouth with an insistence that you hadn’t felt in a while. One that had you whimpering and closing your legs, rubbing your knees together.

The hot heat of her tongue swept into your mouth. A gentle licking that alternated between an anger and heat that was Mizu to her core, and a softer side that good managed to coax out throughout your relationship.

Her hands worked your clothes off quickly. Left them a pile on the floor tucked against the edge of the bed that she eventually laid you down on. An image to be made: you, bare and naked against the white of sheets, and Mizu, fully-clothed and panting against you.

“Need..more.”

“Shh.”

Mizu’s always had big hands. A large plane of palm and lines and calluses. So her fingers against your ribs, your shoulders, your breasts, felt familiar yet, the meaning and intent behind them swallowed you whole.

To be loved, to be had, to be cared for. It was bleeding into every touch Mizu gave. A caretaker of her love, a gentle poem of care, of something more.

Mizu had asked earlier that day: It’s okay for me to leave marks, right? You have like, makeup and stuff?

And you’d nodded, shy and blushing. Now, you wonder why you didn’t lie.

Mizu was on you in an instant, her fingers slowly making their way down the dips and valleys of your body, your hips, your thighs. And, as if to distract you through it, she was mauling your neck, nipping and biting and pulling skin.

You grabbed her hair, wrapping it in your fist and pulling. You didn’t realize you’d been moaning before Mizu looked up and smirked, ever the arrogant one between you two.

By the time she had taken what she needed to be satiated, Mizu’s shirt was abandoned, the lines of her chest and tummy on full display above you. Her strap was still nowhere to be seen, and the shadows of her face flickered as she kissed her way down to your inner thigh.

“Mizu..”

“It’s okay. Let me take care of you.”

she wrapped her fingers around your hip, just touching the edges of your clenched fist. The image she made below you made your head spin. Her hair, flowing and dark against her skin, her breasts brushing your thighs, and the flicker of her eyelashes as she slowly closed her mouth around your clit.

“Hah, fuck.”

“Mmm..”

Your hips bucked at the vibration, your labia spreading itself around Mizu’s tongue on the way back down.

“Mizu!”

Despite your outcry, Mizu continued, opening her mouth wider and licking into you, the very root of yourself. Her left hand had been caressing your belly, your hip, the soft bend of your waist. Now though, it drifted below her lip, teasing the entrance of your pussy, rubbing, encircling, pressing in.

Mizu pulled away to blow cold air on your clit, held you down as she let her tongue hang out, not touching you, just looking up and holding eye contact.

“Gonna be a good girl and take it?”

Her voice, you think, flushed and panting. You nod and bit your lip, wanting her tongue back on you.

“Use your words darling.”

“Fuck. Yes. Please, fuck, I’m—“

And before you’d had the chance to finish your sentence, Mizu connected her mouth back to your cunt, sucking and matching the tentative thrusts of her fingers into you.

It was slowly becoming apparent that you were close. Muscles pulled taught and jaw working around the wrist your shoved into your mouth to quiet your whimpers at Mizu’s fingers. So, when the thrusts got quicker, slowly and slowly before you could hear just how wet you’d gotten, Mizu had pulled away again and growled, low and demanding: “Don’t you fucking dare.”

But you’d yelped around the wave of sudden pleasure already and instead of being kissed back down to sanity like usual, Mizu shoved you around, face into the pillows, dragging your hips up.

“M-mizu, ah, mizu—!”

“Fucking brat.” She seethed, giving you one long second of silence and nothingness before her palm connected with the meat of your ass.

The smack threw you forward, if only from the surprise and quickness that Mizu had used to spanked you. You flopped forward, hurt only on your pride as Mizu chuckled darkly behind you.

“Need to learn how to fucking listen. You wanna come again baby?”

You nod despite your current position. The heat of the spank had slowly bled into your belly, filling it up before it leaked into your gut. A pull that felt like a weight only Mizu could rid you of, so you nodded frantically once more.

“Then I’m gonna eat you out and you’re going to take it.”

Mizu lifted your hips, an easy feat considering how exhausted you felt. Then, without much finesse except in spreading you and humming out a: pretty, she devoured you.

The yell that burst from your chest had you pulling away if only for a second. The wet of Mizu’s mouth as she cursed and then went back in had you moaning. Your hands gripped the pillow under you, shoving it into your face as Mizu continued to eat like she was starving. Her tongue an searing wet heat that was slowly accompanied by her long finger.

The motion she made with her middle and ring finger made a wet squelching noise that Mizu groaned around, sending your into another fit of rutting and whimpering into the pillow.

Somewhere along the ascent from pleasure into nearly coming, your drool had stained the pillow. A dampness that mimicked your cunt, the same one Mizu slurped at, her fingers at three now that she had you propped up and open and ready.

“Soaking wet…just for me, baby?” Mizu gruffed, biting into the meat of your flesh, the mark red and angry.

You were close, you could feel it. So when you didn’t answer Mizu, and her palm came back down, you screamed, coming and coming and coming.

“C-can’t, can’t—“

Mizu stretched you on her fingers as you came. A sensation that mimicked the feel of her strap when she made you ride her. You didn’t realize you’d been crying until Mizu finally turned you over and inspected you.

Marked, bitten up, and crying, Mizu cooed down at you: almost like she felt bad about it all, the pleasure she’d given you so openly, so fiercely.

So when she got you cleaned up and into the bath stop her, you could finally start to feel the embarrassment creep up your neck at your incessant moans and crying.

“It was hot. ‘ts okay.”

And she kissed you softly, a barely there kiss because you were both swollen. Regardless, you could feel the love Mizu held in her touches as she cleaned you up, dried your hair, and tucked you in, firmly next to her.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, darling.”

——-

totally not writing this from my own fantasies ☺️